Culpabilité
by pidgeshade
Summary: Based on an human AU where Hiyoko was never born, when Sakuya runs away from home, he goes to Yuuya instead. Fantailcest (and therefore incest) ahead, with some vomiting in parts, though not emetophilia. Somewhat angsty.


ok yeah so i wanted to write something both human au based or whatever and also fantailcest and yeah so. i started writing this. its might be a little bit ooc but that mainly just me being gritty i guess idek

this fic has incest and vomiting in it and is definitely nsfw so yeah watch out for that. i WILL be updating this so yyyyyeah

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He breathed deeply, and found himself biting his lip so hard he could taste blood almost. His stomach squeezed in nausea, and his throat was so dry that his tongue stuck to his gums, and the dizziness felt half like he was just imagining it. He thought about how he'd just vomited in the sink – then about how before that he'd masturbated desperately onto his bed pillow – and now, as he sat in the worn second hand leather armchair, he stared at his brother's sleeping face on the sofa and choked a little, feeling a mix of shame, and anger, and shame, and embarrassment, and shame again, all aimed inward at himself.

He'd no real understanding of why Sakuya had turned up that night.

And his own heartbeat felt like it was racing miles ahead of the calm pulse of his younger sibling, who had slept without any form of disturbance for the last four hours or so. He had turned up so suddenly, with muddy hair and chapped lips, and had not supplied any real explanation – he shoved his way in, half-shouting, "You will permit me residency here for tonight and no longer, you understand?" defiantly, before passing out in the tiny hallway of Yuuya's apartment, tired and messy. Yuuya himself, slightly annoyed but more shocked that his brother had seeked out his home address, stood there for a few moments, watching his brother's still form, with the rhythm of his chest rising and falling acting as a counter for how many seconds had passed. After Yuuya had counted estimately fifty seconds, and with no sign of Sakuya making any movement, he leaned down and shook him, and when a murmur of conscienceness surfaced in a grunt, Yuuya encouraged the younger boy in his fatigued state to stand up and at least wash himself a bit before sleeping.

He asked no questions – even he knew that Sakuya was in no state to talk about what had happened, even if he was willing to tell Yuuya in the first place.  
He ran a bath, and helped his brother wash off the dirt and mud from his hair. As he went to leave – he had not seen his brother naked since they were both very young, and did not want to rock the boat by impeding on Sakuya's privacy – Sakuya grabbed his arm.

"Stop there."

Yuuya's brow furrowed – he turned to look Sakuya in the face, but Sakuya's gaze was fixed firmly, almost despairingly, on the far wall of the bathroom, avoiding Yuuya's eyes.

"I did something. To my arm…"

His lips were curled in disgust. Yuuya's eyes were almost boring into Sakuya's face, with how attentive he felt himself suddenly becoming.

"It's limp."

Yuuya's frow burrowed again, this time in worry, and for the first time since Sakuya had walked through the door, he found his polite, walking-on-eggshells tone breaking.

"What? Sakuya, you have hurt yourself…?"

"Shut up!"

Sakuya's sudden harsh tone and movement made Yuuya recoil slightly – he had slammed his working fist on the side of the bath, and looked about ready to cry.

"Just… just help me take my clothing off, you boor. I can't do it with one arm."

He finally looked Yuuya in the eye, but all Yuuya could see was a clouded, angry glare. "Do not assume, under any circumstance, that I _need _you right now. I am gracing you… with the opportunity, to be helpful, and not an annoyance, for once…" Sakuya's eyes began to mist up with moisture, and he turned away again. "Don't… don't say anything, not a thing, I don't need your input, I'm fine…" He turned his face away fully, and even though he tried to mask it by coughing a little, Yuuya knew he heard a sniff.

Are you crying?

Is Sakuya Le Bel Shirogane, the world's most stubborn, angry little noble, crying in my bathroom? Did someone hurt you? What happened to you, little brother, to make you come to me, of all people, tonight?

_Did your father…?_

Yuuya wanted to ask all of these things. Repeatedly, worriedly. Prickles of concern grew rapidly at the back of his mind, as he looked down on his quietly sniffing brother. But you see, Yuuya had a fear, a fear that had developed over time from the moment he had actually spoken directly to his brother the first time. He had stored a lot of love in his heart for his sibling, the sibling that he'd sacrificed a lot of moral comfort for, and he felt in his heart that the true victim of his, "secret", that he'd stored for such a long while, had always been his baby brother. And from the moment Sakuya had found the false confidence in himself that was encouraged by his royal status, and had insulted Yuuya as someone of lower class, he had felt that he had no right to be much a part of his sibling's personal life, as much as he desired. Oh lord, how he had approached him repeatedly, and had tried to overcome the distance, and had tried to overcome his own awkward forthcomings with Sakuya, but he had failed, so many times, and he had only ever done it out of a desire to communicate with the little life he had saved a very long time ago. A Moral Saint's fallacy, almost. And he hated himself for that.

So, instead of asking that, instead of breaching the mental space between them, he didn't. He did not ask a thing. His heart hurt watching, and he did not hesitate, after some consideration, to take a step forward and start undoing his brother's shirt. He felt angry. He felt angry at himself for not acting like he usually would, he felt as if he was making the problem more obvious. He wanted to say something casual and funny, but he couldn't find it in himself to do that. Why? Why was this so troubling, all of a sudden? _Why am I so out of sorts?_

As if listening to his thoughts, Sakuya spoke, shakily.

"What's wrong with _you?"_

His tone was accusing, and made Yuuya froze. And, as if the last three minutes worth of thinking had never happened, Yuuya laughed in his usual, nonplussed way, breaking his own frustration. He hadn't noticed his palms getting sweaty.

"I could ask the same to you, Sakuya. Look at you!"

He gave another laugh, though this time, it felt a little more faked than before, even though Yuuya knew he was becoming gradually less tense. He didn't have to look directly at Sakuya's face to know his eyes had become narrowed.

"Do you think this is funny? Are you laughing at me, fool?"

_You little kid. You curse like a little kid, you idiot. You child._

Sakuya became impatient. "Answer me, cretin!"

Yuuya laughed again, once more, but this time it was definitely natural. It flowed with the a paternal bounciness, though at the edge of it was a sarcastic undertone that not even Sakuya noticed.

"No. You are funny, Sakuya, _you_ are, but I do not think this is funny. I think this is awful."

He could've sworn he saw Sakuya's lip tremble.

"… Good."

Sakuya didn't say a single thing as Yuuya took off his shirt, or when Yuuya started to laugh as he undid his trousers ("It's like I'm babysitting!"). And Yuuya stayed by his brother's side – avoiding looking at his privates or anything, then he was sure he wouldn'tve been able to stop himself from crying with laughter – throughout his bath. He washed his face with a flannel, made sure his limp arm stayed in place and didn't fall in the water – he didn't know what was wrong with it, and didn't want Sakuya to hurt himself further. And when he finished bathing, he helped his brother dry off. He gave Sakuya an old pyjama top that didn't fit him anymore, with a pair of his own underwear which didn't fit well at all.

As soon as Sakuya's head rested on the arm of the sofa, he drifted off. Yuuya pulled a thin blanket over him, and fell back into the old armchair his father had owned before he'd died.

It was at this moment that the isolation from earlier crept in on him.

He felt frustrated. He didn't show it at all, he didn't even move enough for a mosquito to notice, but under the surface he was restless, and irritable. He wanted to do a lot, but found himself too annoyed to think about how to go about doing things. One of the things he couldn't even consider was sleep.

And he figured out, around this time, that the frustration came from his own stilted emotions.

He was frustrated because he didn't know how to act, really. He didn't know the right thing to say at all. He wasn't anxious, not at all, just slightly nervous. Sakuya had the ability to do that, really. It was literally… just because of how much distance there was between them, really. He didn't want that distance, not anymore. No, that was a lie, he'd never wanted it in the first place. It never felt comfortable.

He didn't quite want to cry, but he knew he wanted a release. Some way of letting his emotions out.

He left his sleeping brother, and disappeared into his bedroom. He laid down on the sheets in the dark, staring at the chalky white ceiling that was as poorly painted as his demeanour was. He suddenly felt like he didn't really want to be here. He wanted to melt. He would call someone over, usually, if he wanted to, for some kind of release (there would always be someone), but he didn't really want anyone like that to be within walking distance of Sakuya. In fact he hated the idea.

Thus, the only option was to do it all himself.

He unzipped his fly, and started to finger at the bulge in his underwear rather half-heartedly. It was like it wasn't really happening, and at first, it was hard to focus – his mind went from worrying about his brother, to worrying about worrying about his brother, to snapping himself back into a sexual mindset, to worrying again, to gripping at himself a little harder to get himself to focus. _Other men have it so easy, those men who can just switch everything off and just relax when they jack off. If only Sakuya weren't here…  
_His thoughts hovered over many stimulating things, even if he was so irritated he couldn't quite keep on task. He thought about office worker women with big tits, who do anything to get promotions. He thought about schoolgirls with big tits, who do anything to get good grades. He thought about most porn clichés that involve women doing anything to get somewhere, but after a while he just started feeling antsy and unoriginal. And jesus, if only he could stop worrying about his brother…!

And then, as he imagined an unnamed woman getting it behind a water cooler, his mind suddenly pictured Sakuya's face on the man fucking her.

His eyes snapped open and he immediately sat up straight, feeling quaky and confused. He raked his nails down his thighs nervously, as if what his mind had just suggested had put him in an even worse mood. What the hell? What on earth would even…? He shook his head, and put it down to a weird moment his hormones had when he thought he wasn't really getting anywhere. These things happen, it's normal. I'm thinking too much.

He laid back down, breathing uneasily, and put his hand down his underwear, sliding his cock out of them, and began to stimulate himself again. Except he realised that he was much, much harder than before. Disturbingly hard. What could've caused this?

In less than a second, Yuuya deduced that maybe, just perhaps, thinking of his brother's face had turned him on.

His initial reaction was slight nausea, with a swelling feeling in his throat that was not pleasant at all.

But he was tired. He was tired and not in a good mind set, that is what he would tell himself later. Sometimes men do bad things and don't understand why they've done them at all. Morals can be confusing. It's okay to do bad things sometimes. You're not a bad person.

But for the time being, he could only think about how his dick twitched when he imagined his little brother whining a little whilst inside of a woman.

_What kind of woman would he prefer? Probably an older woman. Someone who tells him what to do… Maybe he'd get off on being out of control of a situation… He'd think a younger girl was stupid… or maybe he likes being dominant… Oh god…_

He felt weak, and sick with himself, as he thought of Sakuya having sex with any kind of individual. It was like the particular concept of Sakuya being sexually active was enough to make Yuuya want to ejaculate. He couldn't understand it and he didn't want to, and when he came onto his pillow and he leaned against the headboard, he had sweat so much that the sheets stuck to his knees.

And thus, the nausea overtook him, he ran to the kitchen, and threw up, disgusted at every ounce of his own being. He had just jacked off to the visage of his younger sibling fucking someone. Or being fucked. He was sick. He was fucked up, no, poor Sakuya, _I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Sakuya…_

The acidic taste of his own vomit felt like a cleansing ritual, or some kind of punishment. Glass half-empty, glass half-full. It burned his nose and made his eyes water, and every moment of it, his thoughts went between hating himself and feeling as if it was deserved, then to pitying himself and wanting it all to stop. And when he finally finished vomiting, he was so overcome with anger at himself he wished he'd never stopped at all.

He cleaned the kitchen and bedroom up tearfully.

And when he finally pulled himself together, he returned back into the living room, as if nothing had ever happened. We all do fucked up things, he thought. Nobody's an angel. I am not a bad person…

And as he watched his brother sleeping, it was as if God himself was giving him the finger and telling him that he was destined for hell. And Yuuya almost didn't mind that. He felt guilty, but it was okay. He wasn't going to tell Sakuya anything, not a word. And that was good. It never happened.

Yuuya fell asleep in his old armchair, and that night, he dreamt of swimming in a pool of wine, drowning, and being reincarnated as himself. It was the most meaningful thing he'd ever experienced, really.


End file.
